


we could be gods

by ElasticElla



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild Gore, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 10:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6190987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many things Camille likes about Magnus. For instance: she likes his beauty and the near absolute power he can wield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we could be gods

**Author's Note:**

> for [this](http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/83265.html?thread=1031745#t1031745) prompt

There are many things Camille likes about Magnus. For instance: she likes his beauty and the near absolute power he can wield. She likes how he looks at her when he thinks she isn't paying attention, all adoration and raw hunger. She likes the idea of them passing through time ageless together, of being each other's safe guard against a descent into madness and loss- of caring too much for mere mortals. 

Most of all, she likes how well he knows her. How Magnus can see through her deceptions and artfully toy with her. Magnus still likes to play coy, as if he hadn't already asked her a thousand times over for orgasms, or offered his blood up willingly. She never makes him beg- past lovers she often did- but she respects Magnus, even loves him in a way. Certainly not as much as he loves her, and she revels in the disparity. She's always preferred to be the loved than the lover. 

He's never more beautiful than this- stretched out before her, naked and waiting. It didn't take long to learn that he could out wait her, could be still and silent for days while dry hunger tears at her throat. And he'd just smile placidly up at her, content. It wasn't like either of them didn't have the time to spare. 

So she only waits as much as she wishes to before picking a place to bite. Tonight is the soft flesh of his side, right below his rib cage. He doesn't often make noise, but it's a soft enough, rarely used enough, spot that Magnus groans low. 

He tastes like clementines, and Camille uses a little extra teeth for his spell. She doesn't truly mind, but she's always preferred his blood's heavy and heady taste over an enchantment, no matter how well done. (It's funny, plenty of vampires would pay ridiculous amounts to have blood spelled for them, and she found it most often a nuisance.)

She's not hungry anymore, but she still drags her teeth up his chest, sharp quick bites making him moan. His hips twitch beneath hers, his erection brushing her thighs, and it takes her a moment to decide if she should punish him for the movement or not. 

“Camille darling, please,” he says, and she supposes his hands at least were still. 

With an indulgent smile, she says, “Only because I love you.” 

The utter joy that spills across his face would make a lesser being feel guilty for such a truthful deception. Camille grasps his hands as she slides onto his cock, and Magnus doesn't hesitate before pulling her power, making her gasp at the competing sensations. Magnus flips them around, holding her hands to her hips as he takes and takes and takes. 

They could live off each other like this forever- Camille sipping his blood and Magnus borrowing her strength to heal himself. 

Camille knows it won't actually last nearly that long, she's not some childish romantic. Though she can't deny the fantasy's draw. They could rule the shadow world together or live in anonymous luxury, never wanting for anyone or anything. Nothing was impossible to them… and yet, Camille still knows they won't be a forever. Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise, a reminder to cherish Magnus while he's still in her casket, to savor every drop of him. 

She couldn't create a better partner- and not for lack of trying or searching. Magnus is already perfect in a way all masterpieces are to her, and she can never decide if she'd rather stare at it or ruin it so no one else may ever see him as she does. It's a funny thing, Camille thinks, to be so possessive of that which you anticipate giving away.


End file.
